


懐石三人前

by Megkips



Category: Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, chosen family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megkips/pseuds/Megkips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after the events of Heaven's Feel, Sakura reflects on all of the progress in her life.  Meanwhile, Shirou makes his most ambitious meal yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	懐石三人前

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anthropicmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropicmoose/gifts).



The whole _make a kaiseki meal at home_ idea did not spring from Shirou’s mind suddenly one day, with all the courses thought out carefully, shopping list composed, utensils at the ready. It was a slow thing, born of cleaning out the rooms in the Emiya household that hadn’t seen use in decades. The idea for that particular cleaning spree had come from Rider one evening in mid-November, during a discussion concerning furnishing the archery dojo that Sakura would be opening come February. Ever supportive and ever willing to help, Shirou had agreed that going through the old rooms could yield some interesting finds. During the week-long madness that kicked up far too many dust bunnies and forced the poor washing machine to work overtime, Shirou had found a variety of plates in different colours, shapes, and sizes that could only have been used for elaborate meals back when the house was first constructed.

Further development of the kaiseki plan had continued through all of December, with Shirou practicing knife skills that seemed to focus on the decorative rather than the practical. Sakura hadn’t been sure why he was doing so, but regarded the work as quite impressive and had to wonder what he was preparing for. January saw him pore over cook books borrowed from the library, to the point where it seemed that was all he did. Sakura didn’t ask how his volunteer schedule with various organizations in the city allowed for so much research time. 

It was only now, in mid-February, that all the pieces had come together. Shirou had asked a week ago if he could make the meal the night prior to the dojo’s grand opening. There was no other answer to give than yes, and Sakura had said it happily. Such a meal was the best way to invite success for the dojo, and to celebrate how much had been overcome since the Grail War seven years ago.

Sitting down at the table, Rider on her right, Sakura watches as Shirou works in the kitchen, murmuring to himself. It had been agreed that there was no need to wear formal clothes for the meal as Shirou would have to change every time he ran into the kitchen, and between Sakura and Rider, neither wanted to wear something elaborate after spending the day running around the dojo, trying to make everything perfect for tomorrow’s opening. Comfort was the goal, and with Sakura in her favourite skirt, Rider in her usual turtleneck, and Shirou in his old, beloved baseball tee, it was impossible to call the effort anything but successful.

“Okay,” Shirou announces, walking out of the kitchen with a large tray in hand. “First course!”

The plates that Shirou sets down in front of them are incredibly small, no larger than slice of bread. Perched atop them are even smaller brown lacquer bowls, placed perfectly in the center. Daikon, finely grated, takes up the remaining space on the square plate, and within the bowl sits what Sakura thinks is a soft-cooked egg - that is, until she leans in closer.

“Oh!” she says, surprised and delighted. “It’s tofu!”

“And fish roe,” Shirou says proudly. 

Rider leans over her plate, and pokes at the tofu gently with her chopsticks. “All made to look like a hen’s nest,” she murmurs, before nodding in approval. “Is this common for the meal?”

“Kind of?” Shirou replies with a nervous little shrug before putting the tray aside. “There’s a lot of emphasis on creativity and presentation, so this seemed like a pretty good place to start.”

Sakura smiles at the flush in Shirou’s cheeks. “It’s a _perfect_ place to start.” She smiles at him, and inclines her head. “Itadakimasu.”

***

The room is quiet and smells of cleaning chemicals. It has been quiet and smelling of cleaning chemicals for the past week and a half. Sakura should know - she’s been in the room every day, watching the steady rate of Shirou’s heartbeat, watching his chest rising-and-falling, watching the nurses coming in to adjust his blankets or else to say hello to her. They all know Sakura’s by name now, her and her purple-haired cousin from Europe, Miss M.

Sakura shifts in the little plastic chair that she’s moved to Shirou’s bedside, and checks her watch. It’s nearly six o’clock, which means that she’ll need to head home in the next few minutes. She isn’t family, or Shirou’s legal guardian. She doesn’t get to stay all night.

“Sakura?”

Rider stands in the doorway, as she always does when it’s time to leave. 

“Coming,” Sakura says softly. It wouldn’t matter if she increased the volume of her voice so it didn’t sound like a whisper across the room, but it is nice to pretend that if she did, it would wake Shirou up. The chair scrapes over the tile floor as she gets to her feet, threatening to bump into the EKG machine. It doesn’t, and Sakura replaces the chair in the corner from whence it came.

She casts Shirou a final, worried look as she walks past his bed for the door. It’s being held open for her, although Rider is politely looking away. An illusion of privacy that Sakura is grateful for.

Once they’re out the corridor and in the elevator, Rider finally opens her mouth. “No word from Rin yet.”

Sakura looks down at the elevator floor. “The trial’s in two days. She must be busy.”

The cheerful _ding!_ of the elevator interrupts Rider’s response, and they both exit wordlessly on the ground floor, jostling against other visitors as they enter the elevator.

“Probably,” Rider says, once they’ve maneuvered through the elevator crowd. Their footsteps echo as they walk through the hospital’s lobby, past perfectly manicured plants and chairs that only look comfortable when in reality it is torture to sit in them for even five minutes. “I was able to circulate a little bit more information about the cave-in to the press, although I’m afraid they’ve finally identified Kotomine’s body.”

“Will people look into why he died?”

“He was in a cave-in,” Rider says as they pass through the hospital’s automatic doors. The cold March air greets them as they walk outside, stinging and bitter. “A cave-in that happened unexpectedly. I don’t think so.”

Sakura’s lips purse, and she lets Rider gently take her hand, and turns towards the usual route home. “I don’t like lying about this. Any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Rider murmurs. “But if we let people find out what really happened it puts us all in danger.” She pauses, then corrects herself. “Greater danger.”

“I know,” Sakura huffs, the petulant tone unintended. “I know.”

Rider doesn’t reply, and lets the words trail off into the night. For a long while, they continue in silence, walking through residential neighbourhood after residential neighbourhood. It has become a ritual for them now, permitting Sakura enough time to sort through her worries without needing to voice them. Rider’s hand lets her not pay attention to where she has to go - a small mercy, allowing for total concentration.

Home is the Emiya property, now more so than ever before. Once they’re both indoors, coats hung on racks, shoes exchanged for house slippers, and front door re-locked, Sakura makes her way to the kitchen. 

“Are you alright with eating early tonight?” she asks Rider, grabbing her apron from the hook it rests on.

Rider nods. “Yes. And you need only cook for two. I talked to Taiga earlier, and she said that she had to do something relating to the medical billing for Shirou this evening and would be getting ramen after the matter is seen to.”

“All right. Two it is.”

Sakura opens the fridge, considering the available vegetables alongside Taiga’s absence. As Shirou’s legal guardian, she had been one of the first people to know that he was injured. Sakura can still remember when she came running into the ICU, finding Rin and herself outside the entrance, waiting. Sakura had tried to explain what happened only to lapse into sobs, leaving Rin to take Taiga aside and tell her about the cave-in that never was. Sakura didn’t see how Taiga reacted to the news, only heard her yelling at Rin about foolish and reckless choices made, before heading into the ICU itself to get more detailed information from the nurses. 

Rin had returned to Sakura’s side after that, a thin smile on her face. Laying the groundwork for covering up what the two of them had caused with a cave-in when she did had been a blessing - after all, Rin was arrested by the Mage’s Association hours later, to stand trial for what had occurred. Not that Sakura had seen the arrest. She had only gotten the polite nte from her sister some two hours later that explained things at their most minimal.

 

There’s cabbage, beef, scallions, firm tofu still in the package, and the usual miso pastes in the fridge. Sakura knows that it isn’t much to work with, but it will do. There’s ingredients for dashi somewhere too, and while she could certainly go out and buy additional ingredients for a hotpot meal, this will do fine.

“Rider,” she calls out. “Can you get the portable stove out and set the table please?”

“Hotpot?”

“Yes.”

Sakura lets Rider rattle around for the stove first, before setting to work. Dashi first, which means getting kombu and kezurikatsuo into a pot of water, and making sure the water doesn’t come to a complete boil. It’s enough time to get rice into the rice cooker, and turn her attention to the cabbage.

Hacking through the greenery is an exercise in relaxation, requiring that Sakura’s focus be only on the knife, and on ensuring that the strips are equal in size, shape, and thickness. The beef will have to be about that size too, and the scallions used as nothing more than a garnish. Her hands feed the cabbage through, and there is a certain peace in knowing that no matter what item is tackled, the knife will cut cleanly every time. There is no worry, no stress. Nothing but the kind of certainty that can only be found in the kitchen.

Her eyes drift to the pot of dashi. Time to turn off the heat and get the strainer.

It takes Sakura until the meal is ready to be put on the portable stove to realize that Rider has been leaning on the opposite side of the counter the whole time, watching her.

“You could have sat down and waited!” There’s heat in Sakura’s cheeks, and she fights to keep it down.

“I like watching you work,” Rider says, walking into the kitchen so that the pot can be retrieved. “You seem to relax when you’re in here.”

The blush intensifies. “Do I really?”

“Mm. It’s nice to see.”

Sakura catches Rider’s smile for only a moment - she turns away quickly to bring the pot to the table too quickly - but to see it for even that brief amount of time is something Sakura is beginning to find rewarding.

***

Shirou excuses himself when the first course is done, scampering back to the kitchen while apologising all the while for being so rude that he has to get up and keep cooking.

“He’ll be doing this the entire meal,” Rider observes dryly.

“I know,” Sakura says, smiling. “And if we offer to help--”

“I’m fine!” Shirou yells from the kitchen.

Sakura shakes her head fondly as Rider lets out a laugh. “At any rate, we’ll have enough to eat to give us all the energy we’ll need tomorrow,” she adds, grin still bright.

“And then some, most likely,” Rider agrees. “Are you nervous?”

“A little. I mean, we’ve put a lot of work into making the dojo happen, and showing off all that effort is going to be intimidating.” Sakura frowns for a moment as a lock of stray hair slides in front of her face. She pushes it back, before continuing. “But so many people have been so enthusiastic and helpful that it should go okay.”

“It’ll go more than okay,” Shirou cuts in as he returns, balancing three rectangular plates across his forearms. “It will be a success. One of many.”

He kneels carefully, to make sure that nothing spills, and slides each pale blue plate onto the table, and distributes them. Placed in the center of each is a single piece of sushi - eel of some sort, if Sakura isn’t mistaken - and renkon, carefully arranged on the left and right hand corners.

“I couldn’t decide how I wanted to cook the renkon,” Shirou admits as Rider and Sakura lean closer to inspect their dishes. “So, one’s been just boiled in dashi and dried off, the other’s been left in vinegar for a little while.”

 

Sakura’s eyes flick over to Shirou. “Either way, it’ll be delicious.”

“We may as well find out how they taste,” Rider says, picking up her chopsticks. 

It’s impossible for Sakura to tell what is more endearing - Rider’s enthusiasm, or the glow of pride around Shirou as he watches Rider snatch up the first piece of renkon. 

_Both_ , Sakura decides. _In equal measure._

***

There is too much homework to catch up on. Sakura stares at it with a look she’s seen on Rin’s face plenty of times - the face of utter contempt, as if the thing is offensive for even existing. Certainly it is on her for taking so much time off from school, but the next thought comes unwanted: how much homework is Rin going to have when she gets back from England?

The question must summon her, as Sakura’s thoughts are interrupted by Rider yelling, “Sakura! Phone call from London!”

“Coming!”

Sakura doesn’t exactly run for the phone, but her walk is certainly not slow and ladylike. Rider hands her the phone wordlessly, and makes a pretense of walking away. Sakura knows she’s only going as far as the next room.

“Rin?” Sakura asks into the phone.

Rin’s voice is loud and exhausted and so very relieved. “Sakura!”

“Did it go--?”

“The Association cleared all the charges.”

“How?”

“A bigger miracle than the Third Magic.” Rin pauses, then clarifies, “That was meant to be a joke.”

“I’m laughing, I promise,” Sakura replies. “You won, but did anyone hurt you? The people who you said might be sniffing around here won’t be?”

“No one hurt me. I didn’t hurt anyone either, even though I was tempted t-- don’t laugh at _that!_ ”

Sakura tries to hide the little smile she has on. “Sorry. Go on.”

“The people who I said might be looking for evidence against me will be going, if they haven’t left already,” Rin grumbles, meaning Sakura hasn’t hidden her amusement well enough. “And from what I’ve been told, the cave-in story has been bought by all the local papers and news stations. Have you been controlling that information, or has Rider?”

“Rider,” Sakura admits. “I’ve had other things to keep an eye on, and only went back to school today.”

“Is there a lot of make-up work?”

“I’m overwhelmed. Are you going to be coming back any time soon?”

The long, drawn out sigh isn’t a good sign. “Rin?”

“I’m,” Rin begins, only to stop. “I think I’m going to attend Clock Tower and use it to my advantage. I don’t want anyone else to try and intimidate me, or you, or Rider, or to take advantage of Fuyuki.”

“Will they care about your finishing school here?” Her voice is thick with worry, and Sakura can’t find it in her to care that she isn’t disguising her feelings on the matter.

“I don’t think so. I’ll have to ask.” Rin pauses, and Sakura suspects that she’s rubbing the bridge of her nose, or else shifting wherever she’s seated. “I’ll try and come back before I do anything else, but...” A longer pause settles in, and there’s muttering in English in the background. “Sakura, I have to go. Can we talk tomorrow at the same time? The person whose phone I’m using needs it back.”

“I’ll try and be home,” Sakura says.

“See you tomorrow then. Good bye.”

“Good bye.”

Almost instantaneously, Rider’s head pops out from around the corner. “That was brief.”

“Rin was pressed for time,” Sakura says, putting the phone back on its base. “But the good news is she won the trial, and everything you’ve been doing about the cave-in has worked. _Thank you_ for doing it.”

Rider inclines her head a little, respectful. “Please, it’s been the least I can do. She said she’d call tomorrow?”

“Yes, at about the same time. I’ll try and get it so that you don’t have to.”

“It isn’t a bother for me to answer a phone, you know.”

Sakura doesn’t know what to say to that, and so a nervous, awkward laugh escapes. “I know.”

Rider smiles, and disappears into the next room. Sakura watches as she goes, then looks back to the phone. She’ll have to camp out beside it tomorrow, just to save Rider the trouble of playing secretary. 

The next day’s call does come at the same time as the previous day. It makes waiting beside the phone for ten minutes worth it, really.

“Hi. Sakura?”

“Hi,” Sakura returns. Rin’s voice is more even than it was the other day, which isn’t a surprise - just reassuring. 

“I’m sorry I got cut off the other day,” Rin says. It’s odd how her embarrassed blush carries so clearly over the phone line. “I didn’t even get a chance to ask you about Shirou. I know he’s not well, but what are the doctors saying?”

“There was a lot going on; it’s okay.” Focusing on everything but Shirou had been a small blessing. “The doctors said that his condition is stable, and while most of his injuries will heal, they don’t know if his consciousness will return.”

“The Third Magic isn’t a miracle at all, is it?” Rin murmurs darkly. “Ilya got his soul back in hhis body, but all the injuries--”

“Can any other magecraft be used to try and fix what Ilya started?” Sakura cuts in. “I mean, I know that none of this is normal magecraft stuff, but--”

Rin lets out a low _hmmmm_ of honest consideration. “I can ask around. See if the person who helped me with the trial knows anyone, or the person who’s assisting me with getting a permanent way to stay in the UK as a student has any contacts. He’s a lord, and pretty well connected.”

“There’s other things we’ll have to think about too,” Sakura murmurs before shifting the topic of conversation. “Are they treating you better, now that you’re not under arrest?”

“A little. And London’s nice.”

“Really?”

Rin must sense the need to just hear about somewhere else, because the rest of the phone call is focused not on herself, or on her new magi allies, or anything, just talking about the city streets. About how the Association rests under a great big museum with artefacts that thrum with prana. About the food, and the river, and how after her victory, she’d had her first beer which was gross, and then her first cider which was less gross. Sakura listens, absorbing it all, happy to be taken along on the ride through Rin’s London.

The conversation ends the same way as the other one did. “The other guy needs his phone back,” Rin says. “I’ll call you when I have information.”

“Rin? Can I have this number, in case something goes wrong here?”

There’s a silence on Rin’s end, followed by muttering in English.

“Yes,” Rin says when she returns her attention to Sakura, then gives the number. “The phone’s technical owner is Lord El-Melloi II. Just tell him you’re my sister, and he’ll come get me. Okay?”

“Okay. Call soon.”

“I will.”

***

Sakura takes a long sip of her water, her eyes remaining focused on Shirou as he fusses with the mukōzuke course. The partition on the counter prevents her from determining what it is he’s working on, but even at her distance, his concentration is plain. Sakura restrains the urge to offer to help and within a few moments, Shirou is walking over, the next course prepared.

“Sorry if it looks like I’m using too much daikon,” he says, placing long, white oval plates down on the table. “It’s just useful.”

“We’re really not going to judge you on what you use to make the food so beautiful,” Rider says reassuringly. “Everything has been excellent thus far.”

Shirou turns a brilliant red, and turns his attention down to the plates. “Well, the knife work for the sashimi could probably use some improvement. The cuts aren’t as clean as they should be.”

“I think that might just be a sign we’ve got to get our knives sharpened,” Sakura says as Shirou takes his seat. “If they’re not cutting as well as they were.”

“That might be it,” Shirou says. “And I can do that this weekend, since I’m not volunteering on Saturday. I feel dumb for not thinking of doing it before hand, though.”

“There are worse things than a slightly dull knife,” Rider comments dryly. “I think the thinness of the fish is quite all right.”

Sakura nods. “I agree.”

The thin fish in question, mackerel, is paired with a great prawn, with shiso leaves peeking out from underneath. Rather than act as a bed under everything else, the shredded daikon is placed atop the fish, and Sakura realizes that, after moment, it’s like looking down into a tidal pool.

When Sakura lifts her head up, she grins at Shirou. “Is the entire theme of the meal making things look like other things?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know if I could do anything really technical, and I don’t think I got it for every course, but this seemed like something that would be challenging without being overwhelming.”

“I like it,” Sakura says. “It shows how much thought and effort you put into making everything.”

Shirou beams. “Well, let’s see if this course’s taste measures up to the thought.”

***

Words cannot describe the sense of weird and awkward that comes with walking through the school hallways again. Rin’s absence is murmured about by worried classmates, Shirou’s condition talked about with concern, Shinji is spoken of with a level of reverence that he never really had while he was alive. Sakura feels the eyes on her as she goes through the day, and knows that an unkind part of her is looking twice at those being polite to her, asking after her well-being. It could be genuine, or it could be because those asking think she has information that they don’t.

The only respite comes from the archery range. There is comfort in going in the morning, taking a bow, and letting training take over. That there is no one else around helps, and the sport returns to its place in Sakura’s routine like it’s never left.

A morning breeze rustles the trees. Sakura takes the movement into account, and steadies her hand. Slowly, she pulls the bow string back, and once she has, she looks to the target she’s chosen. For it to be any further back, it would have to be placed outside the dojo.

Drawing the bow into the proper form, Sakura filters the rest of the world out. In a moment, the arrow is released, and it flies straight and true. Sakura watches as it sinks into the center, although that it’s off to the left _slightly_ means that she should move over a half step.

“That was really well done! I don’t think anyone’s hit that close to the center before with the target that far away,” comes a female voice from behind. The good cheer and pride embedded in it means that the owner can be only one person.

“Captain Mitsuzuri!” she says, whipping around, bow still in hand. Sakura knows she shouldn’t be surprised – Ayoko being at the dojo is only natural, since she is in charge of the club – but the greeting is still enough to leave her a little breathless.

“I’m sorry if you had plans for the dojo this morning,” Sakura continues, feeling heat sneak up into her cheeks. “I can leave if you need me t—“

Ayoko holds up a hand, and shakes her head _no _. “I’m the one who should be apologizing for interrupting such good work,” she says. “I honestly just came by to ask if you’d mind sticking around today after school to help with the first years. Some of them have been struggling lately, and I only have so many hands.”__

__“I—“ Sakura blinks, tilting her head slightly at the offer. “Are you sure?”_ _

__“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure,” Ayako replies, her eyes going back towards the target. They twinkle, a hint of mischief in them. “Do you mind if I try and match your shot?”_ _

__“No,” Sakura says. “I can move a second target next to mine while you change and get your bow.”_ _

__Ayako’s eyes flick back to Sakura, and sure enough, there’s a grin on her face that’s all too excited for a competition so early in the morning. Without a further word, she scampers off, leaving Sakura to place her bow down and set up the next target._ _

__Not that it takes very long to do. The bow goes down on the nearby table, and the longest part of the whole thing is clearing the space between the shooting area and where the targets stand. By the time Sakura has returned, Ayako is standing with her bow in hand, waiting for the all clear to approach._ _

__“Okay,” Sakura says, retreating to a safe watching distance. “Good luck!”_ _

__Ayako’s form is perfect, but that’s no surprise to Sakura. She has seen the club captain go through the motions time and again, and just as she was the first time, Sakura is in awe of how precise they are._ _

__When the arrow sinks into the target, there’s a little noise of frustration. “It pulled to the right!”_ _

__“Mine went to the left,” Sakura calls._ _

__“Then we’re even,” Ayako says, turning to Sakura. “Unless you’d like to see if one of us can get it dead center before school starts?”_ _

__In response, Sakura walks back over towards the table where she left her bow, and takes it in hand. Ayako’s grin goes positively manic at the action, and the precious half hour before they have to clean up goes all too quickly. Neither manages to get the shot just right, but the near hits are more than satisfying._ _

__An alarm from within Ayako’s pocket buzzes at the end of the session – an unhappy reminder that classes are starting in fifteen minutes. With a sigh, Sakura stops in mid draw, and slowly lets the tension out of the bow string._ _

__“Well,” Ayako says, lowering her own bow. “That’s not a bad way to start a morning.”_ _

__“No,” Sakura agrees, beginning to walk towards the set up area again. “Thank you for spending it with me.”_ _

__Ayako follows after her, making it clear that the first order of business is to get her gloves off. “Don’t mention it!” she says brightly, undoing the strap around her wrist. “I figure that we should take advantage of it, since so many people are going to have to take time off to study and prepare for university entrance exams.”_ _

__A little _oh_ escapes Sakura that is softer and more resigned than she would like. “Probably,” she says. “Although for some people, I guess that being able to come and do something else might help.”_ _

__“Ahhhh,” Ayoko murmurs knowingly, her glove finally off. “Is that why you’ve been here every morning this week?”_ _

__Sakura shakes her head no. “Other reasons,” she explains, and Ayoko nods in understanding._ _

__“Have you started to think about where you might test next year?” Ayoko continues, her attention now no longer on her gloves but in getting the bows put away._ _

__“I’ve been thinking about just going to the local university. I don’t know what things will be like with Shirou, and I don’t want to make grand plans.”_ _

__“That makes sense. Have you given any thought about what you’d like to study?”_ _

__“Not really,” Sakura admits, carrying her own bow over towards storage. “It isn’t like you can study kyūdō there. My teachers have suggested business since I get good marks in everything, and a degree in that can open a lot of doors, but I don’t know if it’s the right fit for me.”_ _

__Ayako’s head nods in agreement as her bow is put gently in place back on the rack. “There’ll be a club for it, at least,” she says. “Kyūdō I mean, not business. Although maybe business too.”_ _

__Sakura laughs in spite of herself. “What about you?”_ _

__“Probably one of the universities in Tokyo,” Ayako replies without any hesitation. “Whoever’s sports program will welcome me most, _obviously_.”_ _

__“Obviously,” Sakura agrees, her eyes moving from the bow rack to the pocket that holds Ayako’s phone. “How much time do we have left before--”_ _

__Ayako digs into her pocket, then frowns. “Seven minutes to collect the bows, change, and get our things.”_ _

__Sakura squeaks in alarm. “We might have to do away with the _no running in the dojo_ rule for once.”_ _

__“Consider it repealed!”_ _

__Ayako makes sure that the bow is secure before darting off, a laugh echoing as she leaves. Sakura permits herself a precious moment to make sure that her own bow is back in place, and then takes a deep breath to prepare to run._ _

__School passes quickly, as does the daily hospital visit afterwards. Like every other day, Sakura spends most of her time with the nurses, passing the hours. Today ask after her, then about Shirou’s hobbies, which Sakura is more than happy to share. She speaks of his cooking, of the little kindnesses done, of the many times Taiga fooled him by replacing condiments or else taking him to town in the living room where really, that kind of activity is suited for the dojo. Homework gets done, and then Sakura moves to sit on the edge of Shirou’s bed, putting her hand atop his and telling him about what he’s missed at school. As always, Rider picks her up, and they head home in silence._ _

__Dinner is take-away this evening, and the clean up is just throwing away styrofoam boxes. Rider insists on doing that, leaving Sakura to find a place to sit, and to stare at the ceiling._ _

__“What are you thinking about?” Rider asks, taking the seat beside Sakura._ _

__Sakura has never heard Rider ask _are you all right?_. It’s always been _what are you thinking about?_. “Rin hasn’t called in a week.”_ _

__“Did you expect her to?”_ _

__“No.” Sakura frowns. “Yes. I thought she’d have a lead or two by now about how to help Shirou return to consciousness. Or she could tell me that she’s got nothing, and just let me _know._ ”_ _

__It’s silly, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them. Sakura knows it, and knows how childish it looks. “Because if she can’t find anything, we have to figure out some other plan.”_ _

__Rider inches a little closer, closing the already small gap between them. “Is your sister the type of person who reports failure?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Would she report non-progress?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Then I suppose that means she’s just working,” Rider says. “Magi have always been secretive.”_ _

__Sakura nods._ _

__Rider pats Sakura’s shoulder gently. “That’s probably why it is taking so long. She’s new to the magi in London, and she’s made people angry already.”_ _

__“You’re probably right,” Sakura agrees, softening at the touch. “I just don’t know what else to do. There’s so much _waiting_ now, and I can’t do anything about it. It feels like all I do is wait.”_ _

__Silence isn’t an unusual response for Rider. It’s something that Sakura’s come to appreciate since she and Rider came out of the Grail War - it provides a rock to find equilibrium against, with no judgment._ _

__“Rider?”_ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“Can I ask why you’ve decided to stay here, instead of heading out into the world?”_ _

__Rider blinks, and tilts her head. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“You don’t have to stay in Fuyuki, since our Master-Servant bond means you’ll have prana no matter where you go,” Sakura says, turning to look at her. “There’s a whole world to explore.”_ _

__“There is. And maybe I will explore it later,” Rider says. “But right now, you need help. What kind of Servant would I be, if I walked away while my Master was in trouble?” Her smile is kind, her laugh soft. “Unless this is your way of dismissing me?”_ _

__There’s a little squeak, and Sakura unfolds herself so that she can properly cover her mouth. “No! I didn’t mean to imply that at all!”_ _

__“It was a poor joke.”_ _

__And before Sakura can say anything else, Rider’s arms are around her, and pulling her into a hug. Her touch is light, but Sakura makes no move to squirm away. Rider’s arms are warm, and comfortable, and Sakura leans in to rest her head against Rider’s chest._ _

__“Thank you for staying,” Sakura says after a while._ _

__The only response is a gentle of kiss atop Sakura’s head, and Rider’s arms tightening around Sakura._ _

____

***

There’s an earthy smell that announces the next course, rather than Shirou’s feet padding on the floor. Turnip, Sakura thinks, with daikon.

What Shirou places on the table is a medium sized oval bowl with a light brown glaze, and in it sits a large lump of grated turnip, rolled up to make a single dumpling, steamed to perfect tenderness. The green under it is perfectly arranged to look like blades of grass, and none sit lost in the dark yellow sauce at the bottom. 

“Kabura mushi,” Shirou says by way of explanation. “There’s actually no daikon in it.”

“And it is certainly not supposed to look like a single, lost snowball in spring?” Rider asks with a smile.

Shirou returns the grin, and nods assent. “Very lost.”

Chopsticks dive into the dish, and for a few moments, the only sounds heard is thoughtful chewing, with all concentration centered on the deep, earthy taste of the turnip mixed with the glaze it sits atop. 

“By the way, Sakura,” Rider says, when she is half way through her dish. “What time were you thinking of waking up tomorrow?”

Sakura taps her chopsticks down on the bowl thoughtfully, considering the question as she chews. “When Shirou wakes up?”

“Five in the morning, then,” Rider clarifies. “We won’t need to set our alarms.”

“No, we won’t,” Sakura agrees. “We’ll just wait for the cold to sweep in from Shirou leaving so early--”

“--The house isn’t that drafty!” Shirou protests. “And I always close the door behind me as quickly as I can.”

Rider laughs as Shirou’s face flushes bright red, indignant and embarrassed, as Sakura reaches over to pat his arm. “It’s fine, you know, it isn’t like you can control the temperature of the house.”

Shirou doesn’t exactly deflate, but his shoulders slump slightly. “I’m going to reinforce the insulation this weekend.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rider reassures him. “I always just roll right over and go back to sleep.”

 

“If you insist,” Shirou says. 

Sakura smiles at them both, and makes a point to steer them away from the subject with a cheerful, “So, how did you get these turnips the perfect texture?”

***

“Success,” is the first thing Rin says on the phone, after four long weeks of no contact.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Rin confirms, although Sakura can tell that there’s no confidence in her voice. She’s too hesitant, like even speaking about what she’s found will jinx the chance of success. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find something, but it was a struggle to locate people with the right information.”

“Rider thought that might have been the case.” Sakura looks up and down the corridor, expecting the Servant to pop out at the mention of her name. “So?”

“There’s a way to return someone to consciousness with magecraft,” Rin begins. “By moving the soul into another body.”

“Another--” Sakura repeats, or at least tries to.

“Let me get everything out in one breath.” It isn’t a request. “This isn’t easy to talk about, and there are some complicating factors as well.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Right,” Rin says, huffing a little into the receiver. “You can shock the consciousness if you transfer it to another body. It won’t be the soul’s body, but as long as it looks like the original, it will work, and the soul can adapt really quickly. There are magi that make puppet bodies for this reason, or at least there were those that tried. Some of them failed and went insane, others are why people talk about zombies and golems. Then there’s the rare mage that’s successful. The whole thing is considered legal by Association standards, but the only person who happens to be alive right now that can create perfect puppet bodies is wanted by the Association.” There’s a pause, and Rin adds, “Okay, explanation over.”

Sakura’s first question is more of a confirmation. “This would give Shirou his arm back, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve already made the Association angry,” Sakura says. She doesn’t mean to bite her lip, but the gesture helps her to think. “Trying to find someone who’s wanted, and using them for your own purposes would just make them angrier at you. Plus, since you’ve got allies now, it’ll get them in trouble too.”

A gentle thunk sounds on the other side of the phone. Rin’s head against the wall, maybe, out of pure frustration. “I’m aware.”

“Sorry.”

The automatic apology prompts a sharp, “It’s fine,” before the line between the two settles into a tense, awkward silence.

“What do you think Shirou would want?” Sakura asks, once she’s found the right words.

“I--” Her voice trails off. “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I,” Sakura admits. “He could be angry with us for being selfish.”

“He wouldn’t be happy as a vegetable. He can’t cook himself.”

Sakura laughs in spite of herself. “ _Rin!_ ”

“Sorry,” and there’s laughter in Rin’s voice too. “The lord who I’ve been working with has told me that sometimes laughing about what he’s worried about helps him. I figured I could try it his way.”

“Its fine,” Sakura says, taking a sobering breath. “But in all seriousness, if neither one of us knows what Shirou would want, I think that means something. Are we being selfish?”

“Maybe,” Rin admits. It sounds like honest consideration. “But it feels wrong not to try and help him. Not after all the damage the Grail War’s done. There’s been too much--” The word escapes her. “You know what I mean. We should balance that out.”

Sakura doesn’t think her nod carries over the phone very well, so she accompanies it with a low hum of agreement. “We should give ourselves time to think about this.”

“Probably,” Rin says wearily. “There’s no point in rushing this, since it isn’t like Shirou’s going anywhere. I’ll try and see if there’s other options out there too.”

“Okay. Is it okay if I talk about this with Rider?”

“Go ahead. She might have a different perspective than us. How is she anyway?”

“Good,” Sakura says. “And I smell something in the kitchen, which means she’s making dinner. I should go check on that.”

“I’ll call soon.”

“Until then.”

Rin hangs up first. Sakura places the phone back down on the receiver, and heads for the kitchen, unsure of what she’s smelling. _Western herbs,_ she thinks, _and lemons. Lots of them._

“What’re you making?” she asks, coming to lean in the kitchen doorway. Rider is standing over a cutting board, a hunk of meat on it, carefully pouring olive oil onto the animal. Her free hand carefully massages the oil onto the meat, making sure that every inch is well covered. There’s string over the meat too, for some reason.

“It’s lamb,” Rider says. “There’s olives in there, along with spinach and goat cheese.” 

Sakura leans over, to see where the stuffing is, only to realize that’s what what the string is doing. The meat’s had the stuffing put inside it, and then been rolled up. “Is what they used to eat back home?”

“The individual ingredients are,” Rider says, placing the oil jug back down onto the counter. “But not combined like this. You don’t mind eating something so western, do you?”

“Not at all!” Sakura exclaims, shaking her head profusely. “Do you need any help?”

“If you could open up the oven for me,” Rider says, using her foot to indicate the oven. “I take it that was Rin?”

Sakura moves to do so, and cringes from the wave of heat as she opens the oven door. “Yes. She found a potential solution, but we’re both worried that we may not be doing this for the right reasons.”

The meat, now on a roasting rack, is slid into the oven. Sakura closes the door, and watches as Rider turns to scrub her hands in the sink. “What do you mean?” Rider asks over the running water.

“Rin found a way to bring Shirou back to consciousness, but it occurred to us that he might not want to be brought back. That maybe letting him rest is the right decision, rather than us trying to correct what went wrong.”

The flow of the water from the sink fills in the quiet, punctuated by the occasional squish of soap as Rider scrubs her hands. “You’re both wise not to rush into this decision,” Rider says, her glasses sliding down her face. She frowns, and tries to wiggle them back up with a twitch of her nose. “Could you--? I’ll close my eyes.”

Sakura waits for Rider to do so before walking over and carefully sliding the glasses back up to where they belong. She takes a step back before saying, “There.”

“Thank you,” Rider says, running her hands under the water. “As I was saying. You’re both wise to not rush the decision. But you should consider taking the risk. I think you’ll both feel worse if you don’t try.”

“It’s a really big risk,” Sakura replies. She offers Rider the kitchen hand towel, and Rider takes it wordlessly. “With so many what-ifs. We could end up harming Shirou even more, and un-doing Ilya’s hard work is—“ Silence finishes the sentence for Sakura.

Rider nods to show that she understands. “And there are a lot of rewards if this all goes well,” she adds, her voice gentle. Carefully, she folds the towel up and places it on the counter. “Do you want to sit on the futon while we wait for dinner?”

“Please.”

***

“I didn’t find the traditional soup pots that they use for this course,” Shirou says, setting down the first of three large square plates. He runs to the kitchen, returning with the next. “Which are like small tea kettles, with the soup bowl acting as the lid to the kettle. I had to get creative instead.”

“That’s all right,” Rider says as Sakura remarks, “It smells amazing!”

The soup spoons are at the bottom of each white plate. A single bowl of fragrant, savoury fish broth in a matching white bowl sits in the centre of the plate, with square black lacquer containers in each corner. The one in the upper left corner holds gently simmered kabocha squash; the upper right contains dried tofu ready to be added to the broth. The bottom left’s container is full of carefully cooked shiitake mushrooms and string beans, the right has julienned red pepper.

Sakura adds the tofu to the broth first, using her chopsticks and taking care not to splash any broth about. The red pepper goes on next, followed by the squash, then the mushrooms and string beans. Slowly, the tofu begins to absorb the broth, and once it has rehydrated itself in the warm liquid, she takes an experimental bite.

The intensity of the tofu’s flavour causes Sakura to stop, the spoon still in her mouth. Judging by the look Shirou is giving her, she must look taken aback, with eyes wide from a single spoonful of soup.

“I think,” she says, replacing the spoon in the broth, and making sure to get some mushrooms and peppers on it this time, along with the tofu. “This may be my favourite course so far, Shirou.”

***

Rider places another box beside Sakura, and offers her a stapled list. “This is the second to last bookshelf,” Rider informs her. “We’re nearly done.”

“Good,” Sakura says, skimming over the highlighted titles. “Can you match up the Russian titles while I get another box?”

“Sure.” Rider reclaims the list, taking a second look herself. “I never realized there was so much Russian material in here.”

“Neither did I,” Sakura replies, eyes glancing around the library of the Matou household. Like the rest of the house, it’s quiet now, with months’ worth of dust having settled over the furniture and floors. “I wasn’t in here very much.”

Rider offers no more than an _I see_ hum, and turns her attention back towards the shelves. Sakura focuses on retrieving another box, and there’s a little satisfied smile as her footsteps echo on the floor. It’s an odd little act of rebellion, wearing outside shoes while inside the house, but it _feels_ right.

“Here you go,” she says to Rider, placing the box down. “Do you think you’ll need another?”

“No, this should be the last one,” Rider replies, placing the first book down into the box, spine pressing against the bottom. “Does Rin really think that selling these books will raise enough money for the body she found?”

“I don’t know.” Sakura sighs, crouching down beside the box. “Hand them to me, and I’ll put them in.”

Rider nods, checking the list again. “There’s the rest of the library, if selling all of these books isn’t enough. I don’t think I’ve seen a single thing from earlier than 1856 in here.”

“There’s the entire house.”

“I suppose,” Rider says, her gaze meeting Sakura’s. Mystic eyes or not, there’s surprise there, all too clear. “That would be a lot of packing up though.”

“I don’t mind it,” Sakura replies, extending her hand for the next book. Rider stares at the open hand, and forces herself to go back to the list. Sakura continues, “I mean, I know I asked you to pack up my room and bring it over to the Emiya house after everything first happened, but what we’re doing now? Having to do more of it? I’m okay with that.”

“Two hander,” Rider murmurs, waiting for Sakura to hold her palms flat. “And you say that now,” she adds, gently placing the thick, leather-bound thing into Sakura’s outstretched arms. “But going through Shinji’s room, or Zouken’s, will be a different experience than the library.”

Sakura’s shoulders slump a little. “Maybe.” The thought is enough to cause the book to land in the box with an unintended and particularly solid thud. “Oh, I hope that didn’t damage it.”

Rider casts a cursory glance down. “It should be fine.”

“Anyway,” Sakura continues, waiting for the next item. “Their things will need to be packed up eventually, even if we don’t sell the house. It’s better for us to put away their things, then to leave it to whoever comes after us.”

“That sounds like a metaphor.”

Sakura pauses, and shakes her head no. “Not on purpose.”

Rider falls quiet as she hands the next book to Sakura. “Rider?” Sakura asks, poking at the silence. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Rider says. “Quite the opposite.” The smile on her face is tiny, but there’s a glow to it that Sakura has never seen before. It’s hidden by Rider trying to focus her attention on the book list. “And that’s the last book on this shelf,” she says. “Did your sister say anything about how to mail all these boxes out?”

“She said she had called an auction company that’s going to come to the house tomorrow to pick everything up. Uhm,” she adds, looking at the army of boxes that they’ve already assembled, stacks of five spread all over the room. “Did you put the books that had a star next to the title aside? She said those were books that only magi should have, and that they can’t go to the auction company she’s having come to take everything else. From what she said in her note, it sounds like there’s a second hand market for them in London.”

“Oh,” Rider frowns, scrunching up her nose. “We’re going to have to go through everything again, and put those books aside. Did she say what to do what to do with them?”

Sakura nods. “Rin promised she’s give me an address that they need to be sent to.”

“Then let’s focus on finishing up the last few books we need to take of the shelves, and then make sure we filter out what your sister has starred,” Rider says, offering Sakura a hand up off the floor. “There aren’t any more Russian titles included, so we can both do this part.”

The hand is warm in Sakura’s, prana thrumming just beneath Rider’s skin. “All right. Let me see the paper then, please.”

***

“Rider?” Sakura says, shifting from kneeling at the table to sitting flat on her rear. The next course has Shirou in the kitchen, glaring at the oven as if his stare will cause the fish to finish roasting. Privately, Sakura is grateful for the extra time to digest her food. “Could you remind me to bring the laptop tomorrow to the dojo?”

“Of course,” Rider says, moving closer to Sakura. “Can I ask why, though? I’m aware that it isn’t uncommon for establishments to offer wireless internet to patrons, no matter the type of business that they happen to be, but we aren’t really going to have the time to go online tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know,” is the cheerful reply. “But Rin asked if there was a way I could show her around the dojo. I suggested that we could use Skype. If the video works, I can just carry the laptop around and let her see everything.”

Rider’s mouth deepens into a frown. “ _Rin,_ ” she intones seriously. “Is going to use Skype.”

“Well,” Sakura corrects, a little sheepish. Somewhere from the depths of the kitchen, the timer _dings!_ brightly. “That one English co-worker of hers that we met a few years ago is going to set the call up. Rin’s just going to look at the screen and talk.”

“Thank goodness. You had me scared that Rin would be trying to touch a laptop without supervision.” Rider sighs in relief. “His name is Waver Velvet, by the way.”

“Don’t let him know I completely forgot.”

“I won’t,” Rider promises. “Although I don’t know how you could. Even by Western standards, it’s an unusual name.”

Sakura offers Rider a sidelong glance that suggests she didn’t know that at _all_ , and gets a laugh in return. “Okay, okay, point,” Rider says. “Do you have a time frame for the call?”

“Around eight o’clock in the evening here. Mr. Velvet said to e-mail him when we’re ready, and then he’ll get on Skype so that we can show off the dojo.”

“Got it.”

“Now that you’ve got that all figured out,” Shirou interrupts, towering over the table. Rin and Sakura turn their attention to him, and eye the fan-shaped dishes that rest on the tray he’s carrying. “I’m sorry for the delay, the oven wasn’t co-operating with me.”

“We understand,” Sakura says, watching as the dishes come down on the table. “The smell is lovely. Did you put anything on it?”

“Only salt,” Shirou says, sliding Sakura’s dish across to her, then Rider’s, then his own. “Nothing fancy for this tile fish.”

Rider shakes her head. “You say that, and then make the plates look like this.”

“She’s right, you know,” Sakura adds. The dish is white this time, with carefully painted cherry blossoms creeping up the right side. She smiles at that, then turns her attention to the food itself.

A single, long leaf is stretched across the plate, with another one shaped like a _M_ to hold up the fish. Rather than be perfectly centered on the leaf, the fish is folded on itself, like a book. Sakura takes her chopsticks in hand, and uses them to gingerly unfold the fish from itself.

“I’m disappointed there isn’t a recipe card in here,” Rider says, as she does the same thing.

“My handwriting isn’t that small.”

“That was a joke, Shirou.” Rider says flatly.

“Oh!”

Sakura shakes her head fondly at them both. “Let’s eat, before the fish gets cold!”

***

Sakura meets with Shirou every day after he finishes physical therapy. She always smiles as he walks out of the building, and asks how sore he is. There’s no surprise when he says, “Just a little sore,” and changes the topic to that night’s dinner, asking if there’s anything special he should make.

“Chef’s choice,” is the ever-present reply. “I’ve missed your cooking.”

Shirou laughs it off, and the time spent in the market gathering things for that evening’s supper goes quickly. It lets them both gloss over the fact that he has been unconscious for months in the hospital, that it took him three more weeks upon returning to the waking world to even be able to stand up, and that it was two more weeks after those first steps that Shirou was permitted to leave. It would be a long, awkward time gap - nothing more, nothing less. Upon waking and finding out that his arm had returned, Shirou had looked to Rin and Sakura and asked them not to explain what they did to make it so.

Tonight’s dinner is just salmon sashimi, with rice and miso, because Shirou’s legs are achier than usual and standing for too much longer isn’t in his best interest. The miso is left to Sakura, and Rider sits at the table, observing them both as they work. It’s like watching a dance, confined to a small space that must account for cupboard doors, where the rice cooker should go, and who’s reaching into the knife block at a given moment.

The meal itself goes quietly, punctuated by the occasional tap of someone’s chopsticks or clearing of one’s throat. When all the bowls are empty, the usual argument follows.

“Let me do the dishes tonight,” Sakura says.

Shirou frowns, and shakes his head no. “I used too many pots; that’s not fair to leave you to clean up.”

“You said earlier that you shouldn’t be standing any more today,” Sakura counters. “Rest. And I mean really rest, not just say you’re going to bed and then try to sit in the storage shed out back.”

“I don’t--!” Shirou splutters.

“You do, and your physical therapist would be so angry!”

Shirou pauses, and then holds both of his hands up in defeat. “The dishes are yours, Sakura. And I promise, I’ll go to bed shortly.”

“Thank you. Do you want a hand up?”

Sakura watches as Rider stands automatically, offering Shirou both her hands. He takes them wordlessly, and allows himself to be hauled up. He slinks down the corridor, and once the paper partition is closed, Sakura lets out a little sigh.

“He’s arguing less these days,” she says, getting to her feet. “That’s worrying.”

Rider gathers the dishes off the table, stacking them carefully. “You’ve noted it too then.”

“He’s been trying to get me to cook more too.” Sakura takes the few dishes Rider hasn’t already grabbed, and scoops them up in her own arms. “I’m starting to get scared about what he’s not telling us.”

“As am I,” Rider says, heading for the kitchen. “Pile them next to the sink or just put them in?”

“Next to the sink. Could you put the cutting board that had raw fish on it too?” Sakura sighs, putting her own collection of dishes beside the sink, so that Rider can see where she wants them. “If I ask him if anything’s wrong, you know he’ll deny that there’s anything bothering him.”

Rider places the things down besides Sakura’s dishes. “I could ask.”

“He won’t want to worry a guest,” Sakura says, turning the water on. “Even if you live here now.”

Rider places the cutting board beside the dishes, and the knife atop it. “Is there anything at school that might be coming into play?”

Sakura reaches for the sponge, carefully adding washing liquid to it. “He’s been doing his make-up work, and everyone’s been really ni-- oh.” She stops, eyes widening. “University begins in April, which means a lot of people are talking about exam in September. Oh _no._ ”

“Sakura?” Rider nudges her gently as she places the rice cooker’s pot down on the counter. “How is that contributing to--”

“University entrance exams are held in September and into October,” Sakura says, turning the water off. She picks the knife to scrub first, and dips it in the hot water. “You usually test at one, maybe two schools, and if you don’t get in, that’s a _really_ big deal. Plus you ought to know what school you want to attend, as well as your field of study. With everything that’s been going on, there’s no way Shirou’s had even the slightest chance to consider his options.” She pauses, and brings the knife out of the water to rinse it off.

Rider snatches the dish towel off of the oven’s handle, and stands to Sakura’s right, waiting for the clean knife. “Are you expected to go to university, no matter what?”

“It’s,” Sakura considers, running the knife under freshwater, and then handing it to Rider. “It’s seen as very, very odd if you don’t go to university eventually. Failing exams happens, of course, and so you may be a year behind, but to not go at all--” She sighs, and takes the cutting board next. “It must be getting to him, and people asking likely hasn’t helped.”

The cutting board gets a good, long scrub.

“Why don’t you talk about it with him?” Rider suggests, watching as Sakura’s arm moves up and down. 

“Tomorrow,” Sakura says. “When he’s less tired. And I can think about what to say.”

Rider nods. “Good idea. Although you might want to stop scrubbing that poor cutting board - you’re going to wear through to the other side.”

“Ah,” Sakura stops, her cheeks flushing pink. “You’re right!”

The water is turned on for Sakura, and it’s so ridiculous how _that’s_ what makes Rider laugh. Sakura hands the cutting board to Rider, and pauses just long enough to run her fingers under the water. Wet enough, she flicks the remaining droplets towards Rider’s face, and the laughing only grows louder.

“Two can play at that,” Rider says, extending her own fingers towards the faucet as well. Within moments, all pretense of doing the dishes is gone, and a puddle has appeared on the floor.

“Oh my,” Rider says, once her slippers have absorbed too much. “Where’s the mop?”

“Er,” Sakura pauses, scanning the living room. “The cleaning closet’s behind that door, on the right. It should be there.”

The rest of the clean up goes smoothly, after Rider’s mopped the floor and retired her house slippers to the garbage. They’re too soaked to be able to dry without growing moldy and stinking up the whole house. Sakura makes a note of their size as she puts them into the rubbish, and knows that after school tomorrow, she’ll have to go to the department store for a replacement pair.

***

Bright orange pops against black as Shirou places the next course down. Sakura and Rider know that on their plate is a tangerine, and they observe it and the spoon served with it with some cynicism.

“Take the lid off,” Shirou says, acknowledging their stares.

He demonstrates, removing the tangerine’s top with no issue. Sakura follows, using her finger nail to dig under the rind a little when it’s clear hers is stuck. Once the lid is off, the strong, familiar scent of vinegar greets her, and she peers down into the fruit.

A perfectly arranged salad sits inside, a piece of red radish atop several pieces of diced apple, swimming in vinegar. The green just below the apple and radish looks to be cucumbers, both regular and sea. “Oh wow,” Sakura breathes out, looking further into the tangerine bowl. “How long did it take you to hollow these out?”

“Not very long,” Shirou says, carefully moving his spoon into his own salad. “Although I messed a few tangerines up in the process.” He smiles into his bowl, a twinge of red in his cheeks. “I made juice out of those, so I’m going to need help drinking it. That won’t be a problem, right?”

“It is the very least we can do after a meal like this,” Rider says. “It’ll be excellent with breakfast.”

***

It hasn’t been an unusual thing for Sakura to come home after school to see Shirou and Rider together, talking about something. Usually it’s about the day’s dinner, or else Taiga’s most recent phone call from Tokyo, full of adventure and stories about new students.

Tonight though, when Sakura walks in the door, the jovial atmosphere is gone. Shirou’s voice is somber, and all too soft, as he says to Rider, “I don’t know, Rider, I really don’t.”

They’re in the kitchen, probably preparing dinner. Sakura stays in the hallway where she is, and listens.

“I should be able to talk to people about this, but they all just get so worried and I don’t want them to react like that,” Shirou continues. “Is that selfish of me, wanting to control other people’s emotions for their greater benefit?”

“Selfish isn’t the right word,” Rider replies. “But it is foolish. Why haven’t you brought up your feelings about what happened in February up with anyone besides me?”

“Because everyone worked so hard to make sure I was okay, that I’d be, y’know, _alive_ ,” Shirou sighs. There’s the familiar creak of the cabinet, then a thud from a pot. “Ilya gave up _everything_ for me. Rin went on trial. Sakura stayed by my bed Ffor months. I don’t even know what Rin and Sakura they _did_ so that I could regain consciousness, as well as my arm.”

Sakura and Rider are both silent.

“I was saved once and didn’t know what to do with myself,” he says, exhausted. “Now it’s happened again, and I’m expected to carry on with life. Go onto university, enter the job market, earn a salary, be an adult—” Shirou trails off, and huffs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining about this in front of you, Rider. You’ve done a lot for me too, and I shouldn’t be ungrateful.”

“You’re not being ungrateful,” Rider says. “And besides, I appreciate the trust. However, may I say something?”

“Mmhmm.”

Sakura leans in from her spot in the hallway, ears straining.  
“You were saved because people care about you,” she begins, but Sakura can’t catch the rest of it. Rider’s voice is too soft to make out more.

“I know,” Shirou says eventually. “But that doesn’t help me, for some reason.”

Sakura takes another step forward, and finally, the floorboards  
underneath her creak, announcing that she’s home. A surprised yelp sounds, and moments later, Shirou slides into the corridor in only his socks. That he doesn’t crash into a wall is a miracle.

“Sakura! I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Ah,” Sakura says, face flushing bright red. “I guess the door was quiet today. How was physical therapy?”

“Good,” Shirou replies, his redness now matching hers. “Archery club?”

“Really great! Captain Mitsuzuri said that we’d probably get a bunch of new members thanks to my demonstration!”

“That’s amazing,” Shirou beams. “I’ll make something big to celebrate! Let me go to the store now, and pick up some extra things, since we only just started.” He turns back towards the corridor and yells, “Rider! I’m getting more ingredients!”

Rider’s acknowledgement spurs Shirou onwards, and before any more words can be exchanged, Shirou is out the door. Sakura cringes as the door slams behind him, and then lets herself feel the true weight of the conversation she’s overheard.

“You caught that much?” Rider asks, coming to stand beside Sakura.

“Mmhmm,” Sakura replies. “Rin and I were worried about Shirou taking this badly, but I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

Rider closes her eyes. “I remember you voicing the concern. What time is it for Rin? Perhaps calling her would--?”

“—Away in America, for a Clock Tower thing.”

Rider frowns. “Oh.” She nudges Sakura gently, and gestures them both towards the living room. “Do you want to sit?”

Sakura nods, and follows Rider in silence. It’s impossible to ignore the fragments of conversations past, and not to hear Shirou’s voice cut in as he cements every shared worry that came up in procuring his new body.

The futon’s thin cushions are of no comfort as Sakura sits down. All the better as she turns to Rider and asks, “Do you think Rin and I were selfish in doing what we did?”

Rider must have expected the question, because her answer is immediate. “Yes and no.”

Sakura nods quietly, and her eyes remain on Rider, waiting for elaboration.

“You both care about him deeply and did not want him gone. To save him for your benefits was a selfish act,” Rider says calmly. “But you also both thought that Shirou was over the concerns he just voiced to me, and at least had an inkling of what he wanted out of life.”

The pointed glance at Sakura is something that she withers under. Rider sighs, and puts a gentle hand on Sakura’s shoulder. “He’s opened up to at least one of us about his concerns,” she says. How Rider can seem so confident is beyond Sakura, but her calm tones are wondrous to hear. “It took him a long time to be able to move his body under his own power. Give his brain the same amount of time, if not more.”

Before Sakura can reply, the door opens, bringing the conversation to an end. The last glance Rider offers Sakura before she gets up to help is one that begs for trust.

Dinner passes uneventfully, as does the rest of the week. It is, however, impossible for Sakura to ignore how every evening after the dishes have been done, Shirou has excused himself to the dojo. Sakura frowns.

“Did something else happen besides your conversation last week?” Sakura asks finally, after Shirou’s left.

“No,” Rider says. “Although our conversation has continued.”

Sakura’s mouth quirks downward. “It feels like there’s something else going on though.”

“If it is something else, I haven’t been trusted with the information.”

The quirk downward develops into a full frown. “Did something happen at physical therapy, do you think?”

“Maybe.” Rider considers the idea, and closes her eyes. “Although that would only explain why he was quiet during dinner, not why he’s been in the dojo all week.”

“Maybe it built up over the week’s worth of sessions?” The question is a rhetorical one, coupled with an exhausted huff. “And if he’s having a problem with physical therapy, he _needs_ to tell us.”

With that, Sakura picks herself up off the floor, and looks to Rider. “Would you mind doing the dishes?”

“Go right ahead,” Rider says, waving Sakura towards the door.  
Sakura moves out quickly, out of the main house on the grounds and towards the dojo. The ground is cool against her house slippers, but no longer ice cold, although she steps carefully to avoid the patches of mud from yesterday’s rain.  
Upon reaching the dojo, she knocks. Once, twice, and then for good measure, “Shirou?”

“Hang on--!” Shirou calls from inside. There’s the sound of feet scampering on the floor, and then the doors slide open. “Hi!” he says, more than a little out of breath. “Uhm. Sakura, why are you out here?”

“You barely said anything at dinner,” Sakura explains, slowly inching her way inside. “And it seems like you’ve had something on your mind all week. I was worried that it might be a problem with the therapist, and I wanted to find out if there was anything that I could do to help.”

“Oh,” Shirou says, flat. Sakura pushes him aside, and looks around the dojo quietly. If Shirou was exercising, it wasn’t with any equipment. “No, my physical therapist just asked some questions about what I’d be doing when I’m healthy again and. Uhm.” He slides the door shut, but not before looking around to see if anyone else might be there. “It was an interesting conversation.”

“But not a good one,” Sakura says. “What did he say?”

Shirou walks over towards the far right corner of the dojo, motioning for Sakura to follow. There are cushions there, along with a water bottle. “He doesn’t know what to say, I think,” Shirou ventures, kneeling down onto the cushion. “We talked a little about how I wasn’t sure about university, and how it was impacting me. That lead into him asking if I had any plans for the future before the cave-in, and I admitted that I didn’t know where I saw myself in five years, besides living with you.”

Sakura kneels down quietly, and lets the severity of the doctor’s suggestion wash over her. The mention of herself doesn’t even get a smile. “Did he say anything else? Or did you?”

“Not really. I mean, what do you say to someone who says they don’t know what to do with their life?” Shirou replies softly. His eyes are on the ground, and his hands are braced against the floor, steadying himself. “I’ve never seen someone who barely knows me look so worried though.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “And what do I say to reassure him that it isn’t a big deal? I’ve been unsure of what to do with myself since the fire. At least the Grail War gave me a chance to realize that I could make people’s lives better, if only for a little while. Now, with Rin in London, Saber and Ilya gone, _you_ starting to get ready for university and your own future, the doctor suggesting that maybe I need to wait to go to school myself because the stress would be too much for my body ri--“

The upswell of a sob is muffled as Sakura lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Shirou immediately. For a single, stunned moment, Shirou doesn’t move, and Sakura feels his entire body go slack. It takes another moment for his arms to find ther way around to hug Sakura in turn, but once they’re there, they stay put, squeezing tight.

For a long time, the only noise in the dojo is Shirou sniffling, coupled with gentle _shhs_ from Sakura, her hands gently stroking his hair. 

“Do you think I could just help you study and get ready?” Shirou asks into Sakura’s shoulder, once the tears have passed.

Sakura doesn’t pull away, but her grip around Shirou stiffens. “Your doctor said not to.”

“Well, he said that _I_ shouldn’t. He didn’t say anything about not helping someone else.”

Sakura stays quiet for a long time, and finally lets go of Shirou. “You’d still find a way to stress yourself out.”

“I have to learn not to,” Shirou counters. “This would help me. And I’d be able to help someone I care about.”

Silence is the response. Long, long silence, and Sakura goes from kneeling to sitting flat on her bottom. “Okay,” she says, reluctant. “Can I test you about this whole thing? Right here and now?”

Shirou nods.

“All right,” Sakura continues, her eyes staying on Shirou. “I’ve been able to give university a little bit of thought, after I talked to Rin about it and we agreed that I ought to do something practical. My teachers suggested that if I do business, there would be a lot of opportunities and I could do almost anything I want. But if I study in the humanities, I could find a way to focus on archery, and other aspect of it besides just the physical sport.”

Shirou blinks. “There are universities where you could do that? Study archery in a different way, I mean.”

“I’ve been looking at the one the next city over.”

“I think they’re both good ideas,” Shirou says. “Well I mean, good fields of study. And that staying close is a good idea. But uhm,” he stops, tilting his head slightly. “I’m not being helpful, am I? I’m just saying things you already know.”

Sakura nods, fighting a smile. “A little.”

“Sorry,” is the instantaneous response, followed by a second, “Sorry, I shouldn’t apologize for that. I could maybe do some research on both topics though, and we could talk about them more?”

“I like that idea,” Sakura says. “Maybe you’ll find something that catches your interest too.”

Shirou laughs, a little uneasy. “Like how the last time I tried to help you, I found out what I should focus on?”

The smile finally wins out, and in lieu of an answer, Sakura leans over and kisses him. Shirou doesn’t jump at the suddenness of the gesture, or even freeze. He returns it, and is bright red when Sakura pulls away.

“You know,” Sakura says, feeling the flush in her own cheeks. “That’s the first time I’ve kissed the new you.”

If there was any way to make Shirou redder, that was it. “And--?” he asks nervously.

“I look forward to kissing the new you in the future,” Sakura says, cheeks now bright red, eyes trying to avoid Shirou. “Did you want any help with the rest of your exercises tonight?”

Shirou splutters a _no_ and _good night_ , prompting Sakura to get to her feet. She leaves the dojo as quickly as she came in, and Rider is waiting for her in the living room when she returns.

“I take it things got resolved?” Rider asks, looking Sakura up and down.

Sakura nods. “Kind of. We agreed that we’d both start looking into university things for me, and see if anything catches Shirou’s attention as well. It isn’t a big step forward but—“

Rider’s smile isn’t large, but it is impossibly warm. “—It doesn’t have to be. Also,” she says, gesturing to her left. “I finished the dishes.”

“Oh!” Sakura squeaks, turning her attention to where Rider’s indicated. “Thank you. I guess that means relax a little.”

“I found a very bad looking American action film that’s on TV in about five minutes, if you’re up for seeing exactly how terrible it is.”

“That sounds lovely. To the television?”

“To the television.”

***

“And now we return to the realm of familiarity,” Rider says, as Shirou sets down a large rectangular plate - bright blue, with three leaf-shaped cups. The familiar smell of white miso soup fills the air, and in the bowl beside the soup is white, impossibly fluffy rice.

“It’s a sign that the meal’s almost over,” Shirou says. “I made the pickles myself, so there will be some leftovers.”

Sakura examines the bowl of pickled vegetables carefully. The cabbage pokes out from the bottom, with the white of turnips and red radishes resting atop. “They’ll be great for lunches,” she says, delighted. “I had been wondering what was in those jars in the fridge that appeared last week.”

“Now you know,” Shirou says, pleased with himself. “If they’re really that good, I could start making our own more regularly.”

Rider answers with a considerate crunch of the pickles, and after swallowing, says, “I’d be quite okay with that. Sakura?”

“Hold on,” Sakura says, gathering some up with her chopsticks and taking a careful bite. She considers, then nods in agreement. “Definitely start making them on a regular basis. Of whatever you’d like, and you know we’d eat.”

“Well, I did have a list of rejected vegetables for this part of the meal,” Shirou admits, deciding to start with the miso first. “That should be a good place to start.”

“How long is the list?” Sakura asks cautiously.”

“Uhm.” Shirou takes a long sip of his soup.

Rider shakes her head, moving from the pickles to her rice. “Five pages, single spaced, double sided.”

“Two!” Shirou corrects. “And single sided!”

Rider only laughs in response, and Sakura smiles as Shirou begins to defend himself against his pickle plans.

***

The park along the Mion is quiet in the twilight. Across the river, Fuyuki’s city center lights up in the distance, and for all the world, Sakura hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight in the past year. Judging by Shirou’s face, neither has he.

“We should do this once a week,” he says, as the sun dips lower into the sky. There’s no stars above - the city’s lights prevent that - but the fading purple into blue-blackness is still remarkable. “Now that I don’t have to go to physical therapy anymore.”

The squeeze-for-emphasis on Sakura’s hand isn’t anything but a show that what the doctors and physical therapists have said is true, and Sakura matches the squeeze, strength-for-strength.

“I’d like that,” Sakura replies. “Maybe if we do it on a day off, we could bring food and have a picnic?”

Shirou’s face doesn’t quite light up at the mention of cooking for a new setting, but it’s hard to ignore the note of excitement in his voice as he says, “I’d be up for that.”

Sakura laughs, and uses her shoulder to nudge Shirou’s. “I figured you might. After all, there’s no culinary challenge too great for Emiya Shirou!”

“I bet I could think of some.”

“Nope!” Sakura says, cheerful. “You’d get stumped for maybe five minutes, and then figure out something. And you know I’m right.”

“If I say you’re only possibly right, what will you do?”

“Weeeeeeeell,” Sakura considers, letting go of Shirou’s hand so that she can rub her chin with her right hand, and support her right elbow with the left. “I could say lots of nice things at you until you believed me, but I know that doesn’t work. There’s always just letting you do the work, and the point out that, _you did it!_ Ooooor--”

“I might be of assistance,” Rider says, from a little further down the path. “What is it that we’re doing?”

“Convincing Shirou that there’s no cooking challenge too hard for him,” Sakura explains, as Rider hurries towards them. 

Rider glances at Shirou, and holds back a smile at just how red his face has become. “I could just stare meaningfully at him until he agreed,” she offers.

“No, no,” Shirou says, holding both hands up in defeat. “I admit, I could probably do well even if it was something challenging, like a fancy western meal, or learning to use a waffle iron or something. Although--” he stops, looking at them both. “What _are_ we doing for dinner tonight?”

Sakura and Rider pause, looking at each other, then to Shirou.

“I had suggested going out,” Rider admits. “Sakura wanted to eat in, and we were having a back-and-forth about the whole thing.”

“Can I cook?” Shirou asks. “I mean, we’re going to have to go to the store, it sounds like, so--”

“We could make it a three course meal,” Rider suggests. “Each of us cooks one course for the others. That way we’re all contributing.”

“I’m up for it,” Sakura says.

Shirou nods. “All right. But let’s pick a main meat so that everything works together. Is beef all right?”

 

“I see no reason why not,” Rider says as Sakura remarks, “That sounds like a good idea.” There’s a little satisfied huff from Shirou, and Sakura takes his hand again, tugs it gently.

“Shirou,” she says, trying to hide a laugh that’s welling up. “Wrong direction. The market’s this way.”

“Oh!”

Shirou turns around, picking up his pace out of sheer embarrassment. The laugh finally escapes Sakura, and she trails behind just by a half step, her free arm extended behind her. Rider takes it, holds it firmly, and the three walk on into the evening.

***

Mizumono comes out on a square little plate, placed so that it is a diamond in contrast to the square. Somehow, the black sesame ice cream has been shaped into a square, with green tea cake atop it. There’s a thin, almost transparent layer of white icing over the cake, and small flowers atop the icing. Sakura turns the plate slowly, to get a better look at it on all sides.

“You’re foreshadowing spring very nicely,” Rider says as Shirou sits himself down. At the remark, Shirou glows.

“Thank you. I hope it isn’t too much food, given everything else we’ve eaten.”

Sakura shakes her head no. “It’s just right. How did you get the ice cream so square?”

“Cookie cutters, actually,” Shirou says. “I mean, I used store-bought ice cream since we don’t have a machine to make our own, but I just made sure it was really solid, and then cut the shape out just right. Then used the cookie cutter for the cake too.”

Sakura reaches for the fork that Shirou insisted on putting on the table. Chopsticks would make eating it impossible. “That’s really clever.”

“Rin is going to be very upset that she missed this,” Rider says, taking her own fork and carefully angling it so that all of the desert will get on to the utensil in one fell swoop.

“I feel bad about it too,” Shirou sighs. “But she couldn’t make it out here because of work, and none of us can do anything about it.”

“You could try and do it the next time she’s home,” Sakura suggests. “It’d give you more time to practice too. I wouldn’t mind eating a meal of this caliber again.”

“Nor would I,” Rider agree, pausing to chew. “Oh, that’s good.”

Shirou inclines his head a little. There’s pride in his smile though, clear as day. “Thank you.”

Sakura follows Rider, taking her time in chewing. The ice cream’s flavor is strong, but it doesn’t dare to overpower the cake. “It’s the perfect way to end the meal,” she says, after swallowing. “We’ll do all the better tomorrow thanks to this.”

“That was the goal,” Shirou says, before adding. “Tomorrow’s dinner is going to be such a disappointment after this.”

Sakura waves her hand, declaring, “Never!” as Rider says, “A little bit, I’m afraid.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll devour it,” Sakura concludes with a sincere nod. “We always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, anthropicmoose. Your prompt was everything that I enjoy writing, and challenged me in just the right ways. Chosen families happens to be one of my absolute favourite themes in fic, and having the opportunity to explore it with Sakura and to ensure that she has a full life after the events of Heaven's Feel was incredibly rewarding. 
> 
> I would like to thank the following people for helping with this fic: S., for her beta-ing, feedback, and last minute panic calming ; F. for not only his Japanese culture picking, but for his assistance in researching the kaiseki menu (which included an awful lot of translation and playing “what’s in that photo?”); and M. for additional Japanese culture picking, scene structure, and ensuring Nasu level food porn. Without them, I know this piece would have only been a fraction as good as it is.
> 
> The ending of Heaven’s Feel is actually pretty confusing as to how they get Shirou’s soul back, and how everything works. From what I can gather, and from what a friend helped me with, the Greater Grail is linked to the Root. While in the normal end, Shirou destroys it with his own body, in the True End he and Ilya team up. Ilya uses her body plus her own to shut down the Grail completely, and Shirou's soul is in a very odd state. He's somehow extracted, but the details are pretty sketchy. Having a recovered body, without Archer’s arm, and needing to shock his soul awake seemed like the best way to address the puppet body that the wiki mentions, and to make a coherent whole of it!
> 
> About school: As of Fate/stay night, which is set in February, Rin and Shirou are in their second year of school (juniors by US standards) and Sakura is in her first (sophomore year.) Since the school year in Japan starts in April, this means that Rin and Shirou would be going into their senior year, and Sakura into her junior year. This means that Rin’s departure to study at Clock Tower is a bit of a surprise course, and that Shirou’s extended recovery time impacts his school career as well.
> 
> About kaiseki: Kaiseki is the Japanese equivalent of western haute cuisine, and a great deal of attention is paid to presentation as well as taste. It is astounding what some of the dishes look like, and just how seasonal they can be. All of the dishes, save the last course, are things I found in researching winter kaiseki menus. To get an idea of just how stunning this stuff is visually, check out [here](http://food.japan-talk.com/food/new/kaiseki), [here](http://dspace.dial.pipex.com/town/avenue/pd49/pockets/food/kaiseki.htm), [here](http://www.nisshokan.com/koyotei/dish/season_dish/04winter/index10.html), and [here](http://flickrhivemind.net/Tags/hassun,kaiseki/Interesting) as well as [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pH-hQhF_yU) YouTube video.


End file.
